Behind Blue Eyes
by SunRei
Summary: Lois and Clark are good together, except when they aren't. This fic takes a look inside the other perspective of a changing relationship. Companion to my other story, Green Eyes. Told in 4 parts.
1. Denial

A/N: Okay, so I tried to not do this... but another birthday came and went and I felt bad about not giving myself a fic-present. It was my own tradition after all (seeing as I started the tradition last year with fic-presents) so I gave in to my own demands.

For those interested, last year's me-present 'Green Eyes' can be found on my profile here.  
Or at the archive, here: clfanfic. freeweb7. com

Like last year, I broke my box of toys and did something I don't do: wrote a songfic. This time the choice is "Behind Blue Eyes" as covered by Limp Bizkit (not The Who version). If you had to give this a designation, you could call it a 'companion fic' to last year's party favor. Don't worry if you haven't read it - these can stand alone, or they can stand together. It's all gravy, baby. indiscreet cough In case anyone was wondering, presents will still be accepted even though it is a Belated Birthday Party.

Have fun! Don't drink if you're too young or if you're the designated driver. We are on a trust system here, people. gives pointed and hopefully guilt-inducing look

Holla!  
Sonia

---------------------  
**Behind Blue Eyes** (Happy Belated Birthday to Me)  
…

**Movement I:  
Denial**  
…  
…  
_No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man, to be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes  
And no one knows  
What it's like to be hated, to be fated  
To telling only lies_

_But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free_

…

Clark's head popped up and he turned his head away from the dark-haired woman that was standing next to him.

"Clark?"

At her questioning tone, he turned back to flash a grin in her direction. "We forgot the ice cream."

"Ice cream?" she repeated. Her expression looked doubtful, but she shrugged. "Okay."

He smiled again and shifted the handbasket he was holding to his other hand. "I'll go get it," he said, stepping out of the line they were standing at the end of.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he walked the short distance to the freezer aisle and paused, hesitating as he wondered if he was actually going to go ahead with his plan. Making a decision, he moved into the space at the head of the lane and took a deep breath. The brief glance he shot back toward his companion had the desired effect – she was looking at him with an expression of mixed worry and question. He knew that she would be following him soon.

Straightening his shoulders, he started walking down the aisle toward the only other customer that was in the area.

"Hey."

Clark knew he had startled her – her hand froze as she was pulling a pint of ice cream from the freezer. True to form, she gathered her composure and finished the move, dropping the carton into the handbasket she was carrying.

Lois turned to face him, letting the door to the freezer close. "Hey, yourself."

"So…" Clark peered into her handbasket – the ice cream wasn't the only frozen item inside. It was obvious that she wasn't planning on cooking any time soon. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, and he could almost see a sarcastic smirk pulling at her lips. Almost. "Great, actually."

She had said that last part with considerable energy, and if he had not know her as well as he did – or, as well as he once did – he might have believed it. "Yeah, me too. Great."

She wasn't 'great' – he could tell that much. For the briefest of moments he began to doubt his motives. He was doing this for that very reason… to make sure that she would be fine. Standing there gazing at her, he began to think about apologizing for what he was about to do.

"So… you're shopping?"

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled in amusement. His time-out for introspection would have been annoying to her. She didn't like awkward silences. It was one of the first things he had learned about her. It didn't surprise him that she had spoken first.

"That's what grocery stores are for, right?" He hadn't meant to do it, but it was automatic to slip into the bantering tandem that had been the basis of their relationship for so long. Maybe if they could do this again, they would be okay.

"Well, you're either doing that or scoping out for hot single chicks. Or, at least that's what I hear guys say their main reason for going to the grocery store is."

The delivery had been light and friendly, but the words themselves had stung. They hit home – she was single now. He felt the smile he had been wearing slip from his face. "Well, I…"

"Clark! There you are! Did you get the ice cream?"

He gave himself a mental slap. He had almost forgotten what he had come here to do. He watched as Lois arched an eyebrow – the left one, as always – and turned to face the approaching woman.

When the woman arrived at his side, he noticed that Lois's posture straightened. Diana was nearly as tall as he was. Lois's height had never come to his attention before – and it didn't really matter right now… it was just an interesting observation. Apparently, in his introspection he had failed to do his part with the introductions because Lois took it into her own hands – literally.

"Hi, I'm Lois Lane," she said, extending a hand toward Diana.

Diana flashed a brief look at him while reaching out to accept the handshake offer. "Diana Prince."

Clark wondered what Diana was thinking at that moment. She had heard plenty of stories about the woman she was meeting for the first time.

"Looks like you guys have a nice dinner planned," Lois commented, once again delineating the possibility of awkward silence.

"Oh we do," Diana answered. "Clark has this recipe for baked chicken breast using olive oil and red wine that's absolutely amazing."

Up to this point, Clark had been following the conversation like a referee at a ping pong match, but at this statement, he dropped his head, refusing to see the expression on Lois's face. She knew all about that recipe. She knew it very well.

"Well, that sounds really good… I should go. I don't want my ice cream to melt."

"Oh, sure," Diana replied. "Of course."

Clark looked up to see Diana's head tilt, and he knew that she was becoming aware of what had just happened.

Clark looked toward Lois, frowning as he tried to think of something to say… but then he realized that everything had already been said – or unsaid, as it were.

He cleared his throat. "Lois, listen…"

The look she gave him caused his words to dry up on his tongue.

"It's okay, Clark. You guys enjoy your meal." She turned back to face Diana with a much gentler expression. "It was very nice meeting you, Diana."

"Thank you, Lois. It was nice to meet you too."

Clark shared a final look with Lois – after a moment she smirked as if having read something in his eyes. "See you later, Lois," he was finally able to manage.

"Yeah. See you around." To his ears, the farewell sounded conspicuously bare.

He watched as she turned and walked away from them and grimaced when he heard her mutter under her breath.

"Ice cream?" Diana asked, drawing his attention back to the task at hand.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, pulling open the glass door and studying the stacks of ice cream cartons lining the shelves. After blankly looking at the different brands for a moment, he shrugged. "You know what? You pick." He pulled the door open wider and stepped aside to allow her access.

While she was making her selections, Clark narrowed his eyes to peer through the store. He wanted to give Lois plenty of time to finish paying for her items before he and Diana went back up to the front of the store. He didn't really want to have another confrontation - especially one that wasn't pre-planned.

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

Clark blinked and realigned his vision. He turned his head back to face Diana. "Huh?"

She looked disappointed. "Hire me to do your dirty work?"

He slowly closed the door and held the basket out so she could put the ice cream with the other items. "It's not like that."

Diana shifted her stance and crossed her arms on her chest. "Then tell me what it's like," she challenged lightly. "Because it really looks like you're trying to capitalize on what this," she waved a hand between the two of them, "looks like."

When Clark didn't reply, she flicked her hair over her shoulder with a graceful neck movement. "You knew she was here?"

He nodded.

"That's low, Clark." She scoffed, again giving him that disappointed look that made him want to disappear.

He didn't think it was as bad as it appeared…

"You called me for this?" she asked.

…Then, again, maybe it was as bad as it appeared.

"Not entirely," he answered, feeling the need to massage the back of his neck. "I just felt that if Lois saw that I'd moved on, then she would be forced to move on too…"

Diana's expression morphed into one of confusion. "You've moved on…" Her eyebrows suddenly shot up – both of them, she didn't do the one armed bandit thing like Lois. "…With me?"

"I thought, that… maybe that…" Clark forced himself to take a breath so his words wouldn't come out so pathetically. "I thought we could maybe give it a try." Despite his attempts, it still sounded lame.

Diana must have agreed with that assessment because she didn't look convinced. He felt chagrined when he read the message that the next few expressions flashing across her face revealed. She was his friend. She would cut him some slack.

"What do I have that she doesn't?"

Clark looked at her in surprise. Or maybe not any slack at all…

He frowned as he thought of a way to say the things that had been going through his mind for a while now. "You're like me."

"How is that, exactly? We're both tall? Have dark hair? Blue eyes?"

Clark studied her gaze for a moment before realizing that she was teasing him. He smiled. "Special."

"Special?" Diana glanced around to see if they were alone and then lowered her voice. "You mean outsiders." She smirked at him, leaning closer. "Crime fighters… justice keepers?"

Clark shook his head at her mockery.

"No, no, you're right," she said, straightening; suddenly sober. "We are alike, Clark. Both of us are looking for ways to appear normal in a world where we are anything but." She sighed and a sad expression settled on her face. "And both of us are trying to sabotage ourselves."

Clark frowned at her words. "Sabotage…"

Diana waved a hand at his confusion. "Part of me was hoping that you asked me come visit for something like this," she said, waving her hand between the two of them again, "but the larger part of me realizes that I was looking for an excuse as much as you were."

Clark let out an awkward laugh. She was teasing again… right? "I'm not looking for an excuse…"

Diana's knowing look caused him to trail off – even if she was wrong about she knew – it still caused him to pause.

"We're alike, Clark. Very alike – but too alike. There's no spark for us. You know it, and I know it. It's not interesting. We make very nice enablers, but that's about it."

She looked bashful for a second, a look that was completely foreign to him when it came to the formidable Diana Prince.

"I have someone I'm running from too."

Clark was pulled in two ways by that declaration. First… "I'm not running… wait, you do?"

Diana glanced away from him. "Bruce."

Clark felt his eyes pop and then fought to contain his shock. Bruce? The thought was so astounding that he had to repeat it aloud. "Bruce? Really?" He blinked. "Does he…"

"Know?" Diana finished for him. She shook her head. "But that's my challenge."

"I had no idea." Clark cleared his throat. "I'm sorry… this is awkward…"

"No," she entered, smiling at him as if they had both done something silly. "It's… enlightening."

Clark chuckled and shifted the basket to his other hand. This was certainly one of the most eventful trips to the supermarket he'd ever had.

"This is, um…" He glanced down at the basket and swallowed. Was there any way to salvage his ego? Then he looked up at the woman who was rightly considered one of his best friends… even after today – and perhaps more so because of today. He didn't have to salvage his ego. "You're not going to make me eat this by myself, are you?"

Diana laughed, and – like that – he knew they were okay… regardless of the awkward position they had almost put themselves in.

"No," she answered, linking an arm through the crook of his elbow. "But if there are any leftovers, you are on your own. I have a plane to catch."

Clark smirked as they began walking down the aisle toward the check out. "Or a plane to fly," he amended.

Diana turned her head toward him and smiled. "That too."

…  
**TBC**


	2. Disorientation

**Movement II:  
Disorientation**  
…  
… 

_No one knows what it's like  
To feel these feelings  
Like I do, and I blame you  
No one bites back as hard  
On their anger  
None of my pain and woe  
Can show through_

_But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free_  
…

Clark rose to his feet as the door opened and the red-haired woman exited.

"Clark?" Martha asked frowning as she scanned the small waiting area that was situated outside of her office. "You're here?"

He gave her a wry look and shrugged. "That's not quite the reception an only son expects from his mother."

Clark felt somewhat better when his mother's expression softened and she rushed over to hug him. "I'm sorry, honey, you know I'm glad to see you." She pulled back and rubbed a hand over the lapel of his jacket. "It's just that Noelle told me that Lois was here."

"She was. She left." Clark's shoulders drooped. Lois had been sitting in the private waiting area when he had arrived. After the grocery store incident the day before, he didn't really blame her for the awkward exit she'd made.

His mother studied his face for a minute and he once again felt like a little boy being scrutinized about a missing cookie. Martha had the power to make him feel like he was four feet tall even when she was craning her neck to look up at him.

Finally, she stepped back and sighed. "Come on inside," she said, waving him toward the office.

Clark followed her, suddenly aware that his mother was hurting too. She was missing Lois, and his appearance had disrupted any time they might have spent together. When his mother sat down on the couch, he slowly lowered to sit down next to her.

"I guess we should work out a schedule for visitation rights," he offered, trying to insert some levity so his mother would stop giving him the 'are you eating right' stare down.

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" she returned with a smile.

She reached out to brush the hair from his forehead and he felt the tension slowly leave his shoulders. He was grateful that he could come and see her like this. It helped.

"Life is never dull in the life of a state senator, huh?" he asked, feeling more relaxed.

"Hardly," Martha answered laughing. "The things that this government concerns itself with – and the things it refuses to acknowledge…" she trailed off. "To tell you the truth, Clark, I don't how long you and the League will be able to stay under the radar. There have been a lot of questions popping up lately."

Clark nodded. "I know, Diana and I were just talking about that last night…"

He felt, more than saw, the focus of his mother's gaze sharpen at the mention. "Diana?" she asked.

He also recognized the mother tone in the way she said the name. "She was just in town for dinner."

She was silent, but the look on her face spoke volumes – or rather, asked volumes.

Clark suddenly found the wallpaper pattern fascinating.

"Tell me you didn't, Clark."

Frowning, he tried to figure out, which 'didn't' she wanted him to tell her about. If it was the 'didn't' he was thinking of… Finally, he just shrugged.

"Oh, honey." She gave him a thoughtful look. "You know, one day, you are going to tell me…"

"Mom!" He hoped she wasn't on the 'didn't' he was thinking about.

"Clark, this is Lois we're talking about." Her tone and expression was full of concern. "What? Do you expect me to not want to know?"

Clark felt his teeth grit. He didn't want to talk about this with her because he didn't want to defend anything. It was what it was. It actually surprised him a bit that she even knew about it… maybe Lois had been able to talk to her before he had…

"One day everything is fine, and then the next the two of you can't be in the same room with one another?"

He looked down to avoid her searching eyes. "We didn't tell you we were together because we knew this could happen," he explained.

Martha laughed – and the sound was both amused and sad. "You don't think I knew from the start?"

Clark lifted his head and looked at her – his mind racing. How had she known? Did she know everything? Please, don't let her know everything.

He tried too late to school his features and his mother smiled at him softly as she took his hand.

"You were happy," she stated simply. "Deliriously." She squeezed his hand gently. "What changed?"

What changed? Clark asked himself, repeating his mother's words. He didn't quite know how to answer that one. With a sigh, he pulled his hand away and rose from the couch, walking over to the large window that lined the south wall of the office, and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He gazed down on the city below the office building. Below him, people scurried around unaware of half of the dangers he and his team worked to keep them ignorant from every day.

"It's a lot of pressure, you know?"

"What is, honey?"

Clark rubbed a hand over his face and then looked at the dim reflection of himself in the glass. "There's the me who's at the farm, free in my skin. Then, there's the me, when I'm at school – the professional version, when I'm at work. The me who's embracing all the powers and destiny stuff when I'm with the League…" He stopped there, feeling a little stripped now that he had reduced himself to these layers.

"And the you that you are with Lois?"

He gazed at the almost translucent man in the glass. If he was barely there… then where would he be whole? "It's just too many, Mom."

He turned to face the couch where his mother still sat. He must have turned before she was ready because he caught sight of the disappointed and hurt look that was on her face before she schooled her features.

That look meant that she had just figured it out. She knew what he had done in an attempt to retain some pieces of himself.

Some of the disappointment still tinged the creases by her eyes. Either it was too much for her to hide, or she was so upset that she didn't want to.

"You're on her side, aren't you?" he asked, feeling those old defenses start to rise.

Martha scoffed lightly. "Her side? I'm not on anyone's side here, Clark. You are my son. Nothing changes that. No matter what you do."

Clark felt himself stiffen. 'No matter what you do,' she'd said. So she did blame him. "But?" he asked, knowing the catch was in the air – unvoiced, but certainly not un-thought of.

Unexpectedly, his mother smiled. "There is not but to me loving you," she said. "But I can't understand why you continuously choose sadness over happiness."

The words pulled some of his defensiveness away – leaving traces of bitterness in its tracks. "I don't… I didn't choose to be me, Mom. All I'm trying to do is keep the secret dad died to protect." It came out a little more forcefully that he had planned, but sometimes that's how things came out when you withheld from saying them for so long.

His mother's expression was troubled and her voice was quiet. "You have never needed our permission to deal with your secret. In fact, we always seemed to find out about your actions after the fact." Her tone went down another octave, "Don't put your decision to not tell someone about who you are inside on the memory of your father."

The look in her eye was one he had never been on the receiving end of, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, "You don't understand."

Martha pushed up from the couch and walked over to stand in front of him. "Then make me understand, Clark. Explain it to me."

His head ducked. "I can't."

His mother was about to say something when the intercom beeped.

"You should take that," he said, gaining some of his posture back. He was starting to feel that a meltdown had been avoided. The intercom beeped again, and he gestured to it with his hand.

Martha's face still carried a concerned look. He knew that she wanted to continue their conversation, so he reached over her desk and depressed the speaker button. He gave his mother a look once the line was open.

"Yes, Noelle?"

"Senator, your conference call with Senators Brady and Keaton is about to begin."

Martha frowned at Clark as she rounded her desk. "Thank you, Noelle. Go ahead and patch it through to line one and then come on in with your notepad."

"Yes, Senator."

Within seconds, the light on the phone that designated line one began blinking.

"I'm going to go," Clark announced, walking toward the door. He stepped aside to let the secretary enter, and then moved to leave again.

"Clark."

He turned to face his mother at her call. The concern was still etched in her features.

"Will you call me tonight?"

When his hesitation caused her eyes to narrow, he nodded. "Yes… sure."

He watched as she accepted the phone handset from Noelle. "Promise?"

Clark nodded, waving at her as he began to back out the door.

"Clark."

He turned again, poking his head through the door he had just exited.

"Lois is not Lana. Don't make the mistake of treating her like she is."  
…  
**  
TBC**


	3. Impassioned

**Movement III:  
Impassioned**  
…  
…  
_No one knows what its like  
To be mistreated, to be defeated  
Behind blue eyes  
And no one knows how to say  
That they're sorry, and don't worry  
I'm not telling lies_

But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free  
…

"Can I help you?"

Clark frowned at the blonde woman sitting at the desk he was standing in front of. She was acting as if she didn't know him. "Chloe," he groaned.

"Oh! Clark! I hardly recognized you – it's been so long since you last graced me with your presence," she replied with sarcastic bite.

Already feeling a bit defensive from his earlier conversation with his mother, Clark's heckles were primed to rise. "You were the one that stopped coming around us!" He took a calming breath. Attacking her was probably not the best way to approach her if he wanted to get her to talk to him. "Sorry."

Chloe's expression went from shocked to dejected during the span of his outburst. She apparently accepted his apology. "I was starting to feel like a third wheel."

Clark sighed and pulled a stray chair over to her desk to sit in. "We didn't mean for that to happen," he said. "We didn't mean for any of it to happen."

He gave her a look meant to express the sincerity of his apology but it must have revealed more than that because her eyes narrowed. "What _did_ happen?"

Realizing that his expressions had once again exposed him, he worked to school his features. Forcing a sheepish smile, he shrugged.

"Clark, I'm getting the feeling that this visit isn't just about reconnecting with old friends, so – what is it?" She smirked. "Where is that erstwhile cousin of mine? Did she finally get tired of playing with you and go off and break your heart?"

It took a valiant effort, but Clark's affable smile remained in place.

Chloe continued with a teasing tone, "I tried to let you know that I was worried about this from the beginning – but who wants the killjoy around?" She shrugged. "I tried to get you to see that it was doomed from the beginning. So… was I right?"

"You were right. Spot on as always, Chloe."

His power to control his tone must have been dampened by his efforts to control his expression, because she tilted her head at his words. "Do I detect bitterness?"

He mentally swore – he was making this worse than he had planned. "No. Just resignation."

Chloe gave him a quizzical look. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she leaned forward. "What has it been? Two months?"

It had been 39 days… and seven since the 39 – but who was counting. "About that," he said with a nod.

She was still looking at him searchingly but he was doing an amazing job of not revealing anything.

Finally, she sighed and sat back. "Well, al least you both came to your senses fast enough that you didn't get hurt."

Hurt, Clark repeated to himself. "Yeah."

"Well, I didn't mean not hurt, but not hurt-hurt. You know? Not like Lana. You had _years_ invested in that one," she said with wide eyes and a pretend grimace. "This was just like a… passing… delusion."

Well, that was one way to put it, Clark thought. "Have you talked to her?" he asked.

It was time to get to the real reason for his visit. It had occurred to him that just as he had needed to talk to his mother – Lois may have needed someone to talk to as well. But he had interfered with her Martha time, so where would she go?

Chloe shook her head. "No."

Clark frowned slightly at the lightness in her voice. She was unfazed.

She looked at his face and started laughing. "No offense, Clark, but I can't imagine that Lois would need a cousin-intervention over this. It's Lois – she just doesn't _fall_ like that. These things don't affect her like they do other people. You're sweet, but you don't have to worry about how she's doing. I know how she is."

Clark abruptly rose to his feet, no longer trying to keep his expression sober. "You know what, Chloe? Maybe you don't know her as well as you think."

He turned and began to stalk out of the newsroom. Before he got to the stairs, he felt himself get pulled into the conference room to his right. He sighed and turned to face the little blonde dynamo when she closed the door.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded with her hands on her hips.

"Exactly what it said," he replied curtly.

Chloe's brow furrowed. "Okay, so obviously I missed the segue between the Woe is Me speech and the Attack Chloe campaign. Mind clueing me in?"

He remained silent for a moment. "I'm the one that broke up with her."

"Okay," Chloe drawled, thinking about his revelation. "Admittedly, that is a little surprising, but I'm not sure how that changes the fact that the two of you are," she gave a little shrug, "broken up."

She looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry that it didn't work out, but I'm happy that you got out unscarred. You have to remember that I had a front row seat for the entire Lana debacle – in fact, sometimes I was sitting right in the middle."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'm sorry."

Chloe smiled and shook her head. "I'm not fishing for an apology here, Clark. As your 'unofficial' sidekick, I actually think it's a good thing that you will be focusing all your attention on the 'unofficial' business now."

"So, what was the straw that broke the camel's back?" she asked. "I take it you didn't tell her about the whole dual identity thing, huh?"

Clark thought he detected a minor trace of smugness in the question and he realized that Lois had been right. When Lois had hinted that Chloe had a slight grudge against her cousin, he had disregarded her concerns. Now, he wasn't so sure Lois's concerns had been unfounded.

No, Lois hadn't known about the dual identity, as Chloe called it, but that hadn't been the crux of the problem. Now that he was aware that Chloe had her own blind alliances, the guilt he had been fighting to shake all day had resettled on his shoulders. This was the second time he had usurped a person Lois should have rightly been able to use as a confidante. Some protector he was.

In his silence, Chloe seemed to have gotten her answer. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Clark. No one can blame you for you keeping a secret. I mean, it's not just about you anymore – it's Oliver, Vincent, Bart, Diana, Bruce… me. Those are a lot of reasons for you to be careful."

She ducked her head in an attempt to get a look at his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He frowned. "You're on my side," he replied gravely. "No question."

Chloe laughed. "I've read the entire manual on your operating system, so I know you have good reasons for whatever you do." She met his gaze soberly. "You're my best friend, Clark – Isn't that why you came here? For the unconditional loyalty?"

Maybe it was the reason, he thought to himself. Maybe after the conversation with his mother, he had wanted someone to convince him that what he had done was the right thing. She had been right to bring up the League. Each on of those people was a part of his identity – each one of them found a piece of themselves in him, and he in they. If he were to disclose himself, it would be to expose them too.

The admission did nothing to alleviate his guilt.

"Like I said before, at least you got out before it was too late." Chloe shot him a smile that said all was okay in their world – but he knew that the world was built on secrets he had to keep, and lies he had to tell.

It wouldn't be fair of him to tell Chloe what really happened. He wouldn't tell her that they had fallen so far and so fast that the slip into intimacy had been seamless. He wouldn't tell her that he had allowed himself to become intimate with her cousin without telling her the truth about himself. He wouldn't tell her that in a vulnerable moment of afterglow, Lois has whispered two words that had left him as powerless as any amount of kryptonite could have.

_'Marry me.'_

He wouldn't tell Chloe about the look that had appeared on her cousin's face after she realized what she'd said. How Lois had snapped to attention as they stared at each other in shock.

He wouldn't describe the way the emotions played across her face, a progression from surprise, to horror, to confusion, to realization, and then to passion. She had meant it – and she proved it by saying it again.

_'Marry me.'_

No. Clark wouldn't tell Chloe those things – things a cousin should be able to tell at her own pace.

He also wouldn't reveal how he had responded.

Yes. He had come to Chloe for the unconditional loyalty her friendship promised, at the expense of – or, maybe as a manipulation of – her current resentment of her cousin.

Because, if she knew all of that other stuff… everything would change.  
…

**TBC**


	4. Acquiesence

**Movement IV:  
Acquiescence**

…  
…

_No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man, to be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes_

…

Clark sighed when his x-ray vision revealed the identity of who was on the other side of the front door to his apartment. It was late – it had been a long and emotional day, and he really wasn't in the mood to extend it. If he let her in, he would have to summon the strength to grind through another confrontation. He'd had enough of those that day.

Still, he found himself moving toward the door, floating so as to not make any noise.

"Open the door, Clark. I know you're there."

He flinched in surprise when she said that. It had always amazed him that she seemed to have a sixth sense attuned to him. She always knew when he was there.

Giving in, he reached out to flick the light on – no use in trying to absorb the solitude of the dark anymore – and opened the door.

She brushed past him without waiting for an invitation and Clark slowly closed the door and turned to face the center of the room. She stood with her back to him, and he wondered why she had even come over if they were just going to share silence. At one time in their relationship – when things had been good – shared silence had been nice… comfortable. Now, it was awkward.

In the silence, the memories of the last time she had been in his apartment rang loud and clear.

He saw her looking around and guessed what she was seeking. "Um, Diana's not here."

She finally turned to face him with an unreadable expression. "Well, seeing as I didn't come here to talk to her – forgive me if I'm not all that disappointed."

He had called that one wrong. "You wanted to talk… to me?"

She looked as if she were in a fight with herself on that one. "Astonishing, huh?"

He found himself releasing another sigh. The fears supporting the reason he had desired to escape a confrontation were manifesting in front of him. After the grocery store and Diana, he had decided that time was the key. Maybe with time, they would be able to talk about this. Whatever the case, there certainly hadn't been enough _time_ gone by to deal with this.

He waited to see if she would explain her visit. They were in a battle of wills.

His sensitive nose told him something new. "Have you been drinking?" If that was how she was deciding to handle her problems, they had more to deal with than he thought.

She looked momentarily surprised and then angry. "You expected me to self-destruct, didn't you? Typical."

Great. He hadn't been trying to insult her. He sighed again.

"I had _one_ drink, Clark. Am I off of the hay wagon?"

He should have known better than to doubt her responsibility. Had he been working off the information about the Lois that he once knew, he wouldn't have the need to question her decisions. Contrary to what most people thought, Lois Lane was one of the most astute and conscientious people he knew.

No, normally he wouldn't have suspected her of any untoward behavior… it was just the situation they were in – a situation of his making. It skewed everything. "Lois, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Her expression showed irony. "Didn't you?" Her eyes narrowed and she shrugged. "Because you had that whole list of things prepared to say, and that alone tells me you had it planned out before hand. Are you telling me that in all that premeditation, you didn't think that I would be hurt?"

He noticed the flush rise to her neck as she broke the lock of their gazes. Her voice had trembled with something that was both sad and angry at the same time, and he felt awful for having put it there.

That list… those things he'd said to her… They had been true and they had served their purpose – whether or not they had been fair.

She suddenly looked at him again. "I came to tell you that you were right about us… about everything."

That took him by surprise. "You… you did?" For the first time, he was forced to question if he _wanted_ to be right about everything.

She seemed to almost look disgusted as she studied him. "We did move fast – really fast for a one month relationship. On the surface we _are_ opposites, and yes, there _is_ the question of if what we have – I mean, if what we _had_ could exist outside of these four walls…"

She paused and looked at him – really looked, and he had trouble believing what he thought he _might_ have seen there.

"We fell too fast for it to be believable."

Clark was forced to look away so he wouldn't expose the lie. Maybe on the surface they had fallen too fast, but there had been droppage before the 39 days. They just hadn't let themselves admit it.

"I was wrong about a lot of things," she declared. "Namely…"

The trailing off of her words caused him to look up and he saw her turn and walk over to a spot near his bookshelf.

"…When I stood right here, in this spot, and let you crush me with line after line of reasons…" Her jaw tightened as she reigned in her composure. "…and like some kick bag, I just took it. Like I was popping back up each time; ready for another hit."

The metaphor troubled him. He would never deliberately hurt her – well, he amended recalling the verbal rundown of the break up, not physically.

"I never said anything back, never defended myself…"

He wanted to respond… he wanted to say something, but this was her turn to speak, and he would give it to her. The last time they were here together, he had said his 'reasons why not' and she had listened. She had not argued, she had not questioned. She had just taken it all in - and left.

"That was wrong," she added softly. "But let me tell you where _you_ were wrong." Turning to face him, she continued, "You said that you were saving our friendship, but the truth is that you didn't – you couldn't. Our 'friendship'," she spat, heatedly. "…is ruined."

Clark successfully fought off the urge for tears. The reason he had put on the breaks, the reason he had pulled back when they were in the heat of the frying pan, had been to salvage the relationship that had been his saving grace. If that was gone – and that is what it certainly appeared to be – then the sacrifice had been for naught.

He couldn't accept that it had all been worthless. "You don't mean that," he said, half pleading with her, half pleading with himself.

"You asked me to walk away, Clark. To quit." Her tone was partly accusatory but steady. "And I have been trying like hell to prove to myself that I felt the same way you did, but I can't… because I don't."

She didn't feel the same way he did about what? About quitting?

Again, her sixth sense seemed to tell her exactly what he was thinking. "I don't want to love you…" His heart pinched when she answered his thoughts. "But I do."

Clark experienced a breathless and soundless minute as all of his senses attempted to overload at once. He didn't know what to do with that. He still had a job to do.

"And I just can't walk away from that. So, no, we can't go back to being friends. It's too late." She gave him a hard look, challenging him to deny that she was right. "And you know it."

The ice he was applying to his heart threatened to thaw when he saw the lone tear thread its way down her cheek. Lois Lane didn't cry. Again, the perception that she gave was one of shatter-resistant material, but he had learned the failsafe – and he was the person that broke the glass.

He stiffened in surprise when she suddenly rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Am I unlovable?"

She moved a hand to the side of his face and stood gazing into his eyes. He found that he was paralyzed by fear. Fear that he really had broken her – the look in her eyes and the fact that she was pleading with him were things quite out of character.

"Show me," she whispered.

Then she pressed herself flush against him in another type of plea altogether. And there was the fear that she had broken him – the sight of her, the smell of her, the mere presence of her, overwhelmed him. He finally felt his nerves release and he began to reach for her… one more time. One last time… but before he could, she was gone.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she said into her hands.

Clark forced himself to check his emotions. "You don't have to apologize," he said.

She pulled her hands away from her face and glared at him. "I wasn't apologizing to you. I was talking to myself."

He noticed with slight relief that she was back. The Lois Lane who didn't beg. The Lois Lane who would be all right without him.

"Everything is just so messed up." She hugged herself, as if trying to keep that Lois Lane in place. "What I should be doing is taking all of my anger and hurt out on you…"

Yes, he said silently. You should.

Somehow, the return of abuse would soothe him where the devastating guilt was crushing his soul.

Her expression took on yet another emotion to add to the list the night was producing. "I don't understand, Clark… Why?"

It was the one question he didn't want to answer. It was the one that determined the necessity for the lies. His heart – his love – was not his to share. "I can't be what you want me to."

Obviously that didn't answer anything. "When have I ever asked you to be anything?"

"Everyone wants something, Lois." In his mind, the faces of everyone he knew were conjured up. They all expected something from him. His mom expected duty, Chloe expected power, the world expected protection… "Even you."

He recognized the anger as it boiled in her eyes. It almost looked like passion – but she kept a tight lid on it. "You're right."

And there it was, finally. His absolution. The pressure wasn't imagined. His reactions were real.

"So, let's get to the bottom of this. What was it that I wanted from you that was too much to bear?" she demanded, stepping closer to him. "What was it that I wanted you to be?"

He felt the unexpected need to step back – her tightly coiled emotions were that intimidating – but he didn't move.

"Stoic?" she asked, poking his shoulder. "You seem to be doing very well with that right about now. Secretive?" This time the poke was in his chest. "I am not La…" Her expression darkened. "I have _never_ even asked."

Shaking her head, she stepped back, again putting space between them. The idea that he would have considered her to be comparable to Lana seemed to threaten to send her over the edge. It made Clark think back to his conversation with his mother.

_'Lois is not Lana. Don't make the mistake of treating her like she is.'_

"So, what then?" Lois asked, throwing her hands into the air. "Present? Prompt? Faithful? I've put up with all of your excuses and never once did I suspect…"

Her words stalled, and her eyes widened – filled with surprise, hurt, realization, and betrayal. "Oh."

And then he caught up. Grocery store. Diana. His attempt at subterfuge paying out.

"No. Never. I wouldn't, Lois. She's not even…" For some reason, he felt the need to protect that little slice of what she could trust about him as a person. He wouldn't have cheated on Lois – he couldn't have cheated on Lois. "Fearless," he finally admitted. "I couldn't be fearless."

"Fearless?" she asked, with incredulity filling her voice. "You don't think I was afraid? You don't think that I'm afraid right now?" She took a moment to close her eyes and release a breath. "You want to know what I wanted, no – what I _needed_ you to be, Smallville?"

The look of misrecognition she gave him shook his core.

"A man."

His entire psyche drooped at her words. They defined the very thing he wasn't. Human. He couldn't be what she wanted. She had justified everything he had done and thought without even knowing it.

"Everyone has fears – it's what you do in the face of those fears that determines what kind of person you are… what kind of _man_ you are."

He couldn't find it within himself to look at her. The two words were still ringing in his ears. She had admitted the very thing he had wanted her to – and yet it was the very thing he never wanted to hear her say.

She sighed heavily at his non-response. "You asked me not to love you, and I tried, believe me, I tried – but it's too late. And as much as you would like to convince me otherwise, I don't believe that you can just 'lose' love."

Again she paused, giving him breadth to insert something to make her think otherwise – but he couldn't do it. He couldn't be rejected again.

"Do you?"

He knew that she was laying it on the line. She was waiting for him to provide the final seal.

"Listen, every relationship has a breaking point. Either it cracks apart or it gets welded over and becomes stronger." She paused again. "Are we stronger? Do we get to use our one-time idiot passes and try again?"

He finally met her gaze. This woman – this Lois Lane – was pledging to love him in spite of the things she didn't know. In spite of the things he had said, the ways he had lied. She deserved greater than he had to offer. She deserved a man who could love her freely and without limit. She deserved to be released.

But as much as his logical mind was demanding that he say these things, that he confirm the diagnosis with a time of death, his heart would not let him speak. So he stood there, gazing at this woman – this Lois Lane – and said nothing.

"Okay," Lois said after the time they spent in silence went beyond anything constructive.

Clark felt a physical void when she finally pulled her gaze away. "Okay."

He still couldn't move when she stepped past him, and her movement drove home what his inactivity had accomplished.

He allowed his chin to fall to his chest. In his other life, he saved people, he kept them from harm and protected them from dangers seen and unseen – but when he brought his work home to this private side, the rules didn't seem to be the same.

He was no hero here.

His secret was not his alone. His identity was tied into the lives of other people, and their identities were tied up in his. He had been sent to this world to act as an overseer – a guardian. These were the things he knew – the things that kept him grounded.

But his identity was also intertwined with the essence of a woman who had helped to create his confidence, who had challenged him into action when he had resigned to take none. She was half of the reason the other parts of himself were even able to function. She deserved someone who could appreciate those things. She deserved someone who wasn't so afraid of her rejection of the truth that he refused to share it with her. She deserved a man who would demand that his other life responsibilities bend to her presence.

But most of all, she deserved to have the one thing he was refusing to give to her.

She deserved to have a choice.

"Lois," he said, turning to face the door… but it was wide open.

And she was gone.

Within seconds, he had finally made a choice that he had been avoiding for months. Within seconds he was standing on her stoop, waiting with held breath for the taxi to deposit its passenger on the curb.

He held his breath as she slowly walked up the sidewalk, focused on finding the elusive keyring that was hidden somewhere in the recesses of her purse. And he held his breath when she finally looked up and saw him waiting there.

This woman – this Lois Lane – was the woman he loved. And if she would have him, he would pledge to love her forever.

She took a confused glance around, and he smiled with mixed anxiety and amusement at what he knew she was wondering.

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked, halting her steps a few feet from him.

This was the proverbial point of no return on the proverbial flight of life… This was the time to be fearless - to tell the truth.

He licked his lips and straightened, looking her deeply in the eyes. "I flew."

…

_end_


End file.
